Josie Day Is Coming Home Read Free Page B

business.”
    Tallulah nodded approvingly. In Josie’s shoes, she’d have
said the same thing.
    She heaved herself upward, cursing the snap, crackle, and
pop in her knees as she went. Getting old was for the birds. She remembered when
she’d been as lithe and limber as these pop-tarts backstage were. No
kidding—that shopworn cliché was true. Youth really was wasted on the
young.
    But maybe not on Josie. Not if Tallulah could help it.
    “Well?” the girl demanded. “Are you going to
sue? For overly enthusiastic Heimliching or something? I mean, I don’t know why
you wouldn’t—everybody’s lawsuit-happy these days.” She flung up both arms
in exasperation, showing off the sinuous gold costume bracelets on her wrists.
“I might as well warn you, though. You won’t get much out of me. I share a
double-wide trailer with two other dancers from Bally’s. The most valuable
things I own are my dancing shoes. So unless you plan on cha-cha-ing your way
back to the old folks’ home—”
    A pair of dancers lingering nearby gasped.
    “—you’ll be wasting your time.” Clearly wound-up,
Josie plunked both hands on her hips. She examined Tallulah with a defiant
expression. “What’s so funny? Why are you smiling like that?”
    “Because you remind me of myself. Which is why I’m here.”
Straightening herself to her most regal five-foot-two, Tallulah pulled a
business card from her purse and handed it to Josie. “Also, to thank you.
For saving my life tonight.”
    As she said it, the reality of the situation struck again.
Immediately after Josie had Heimliched out that damned martini olive, Tallulah
had been too shaken to think clearly. She knew she’d acted badly. But now she
wanted to make amends.
    She wanted to fire up a fresh pack of Winston Lights, too.
However, like so many other things, her smokes were off-limits. She’d have to
settle for this.
    Gruffly, she added, “I might have to go eventually. But
I’ll be damned if my obituary will read: ‘Done in by an extra-slippery martini
olive. May she rest in peace.’”
    Josie blinked at the card in her hand.
    “I didn’t plan on telling anyone this.” Tallulah
paused, glancing around the ever-quieting dressing room. Showgirls nearby
puttered with their false eyelashes or their false ta-tas, pretending not to
listen. “But you might as well know. I’m…Tallulah Carlyle.”
    She waited for the inevitable shriek of recognition.
    And waited.
    And…screw it.
    “Hello? The owner of this dump! Tallulah Carlyle. Widow
of Ernest Carlyle, Carlyle Enterprises. You mean to tell me nobody notices the
name on the bottom of their paychecks?”
    Muttering ensued. The lanky blond stepped forward.
“It’s just a stamp. It’s pretty unreadable, actually.”
    Tallulah frowned. “Don’t you have somewhere else to
be?”
    “Not if you’re causing trouble for Josie.”
Loyally, she edged closer to the redhead. “I’m sticking right here.”
    “It’s okay, Parker.” Josie shook her head over the
business card, then gave it back to Tallulah. “Look, I don’t know who put
you up to this…Chuck and Enrique, probably. Or maybe Jacqueline. But the
joke’s over. I get it. April Fool on me, ha, ha.”
    “I’m serious,” Tallulah insisted. “You
deserve something for helping me.”
    “Yeah. A joke, apparently.” Josie held up her
hands, signaling for attention from the other showgirls. “Okay, you got
me. Very funny, everybody. Just wait till next year.”
    Her playful expression promised retribution on an April
Fool’s Day yet to come. But when she turned again to face Tallulah, her eyes
were troubled.
    “You probably weren’t even really choking, were
you?” She smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Geez, am I a sucker. I bought the whole thing. Hook, line, and sinker.”
    “It’s no joke.” Flummoxed by Josie’s unexpected
resistance, Tallulah crossed her arms over her chest. “I intend to reward
you. So….” She leaned